Forgive and ForgetOr Not: Part I Nikki's Story
by Stop.the.drama
Summary: The Bride was victorious in her quest for revenge,but she touched many other lives as well,and guess what?They havent forgotten.See the toll B took on Nikkis life,and how far she will go to settle her own vendetta, with the help of some familiar faces.
1. Nikki Bell: Reaction

**Forgive and Forget…Or Not:** Part I- Nikki Bell

"When you grow up…if you still feel raw about it… I'll be waiting."

_-Beatrix Kiddo (Said mere seconds after Jeanie Bell a.k.a. Vernita Green was killed)_

Chapter 1: Nicky Bell-Reaction

As she stepped out of the door, being only 4 years old at the time, I was frozen where I stood, though my mind was racing. Flashing back to what moments before I thought must have been a dream, or some figment of my imagination, as I had a vivid one back then.

Mommy laying on the kitchen floor, choking on her own fluids, something impaled in her chest. Her head suddenly slumping to the floor. The blonde woman then kneeling down and removing the knife from my mother's bosom. Hearing her cold, seething, yet sincere words. Hearing the door slam on her way out.

Then there I was, alone, left looking at my mother's dead, lifeless eyes, which had a look of serene depth to them. I didn't focus on her chest, or how she was drenched in blood, or her gory face. Just her eyes. No, I thought. This isn't happening. This _can't _happen. I abandoned my statuesque position and closed my eyes, tighter than I ever had before, hoping, with all of my might, that when I opened them, my mom would not be on the floor and not have these inhuman eyes and not be…dead.

……..How naïve children can be.

When I opened them, well, you can anticipate what I saw and how real it truly was. I just dropped on the floor and cried. Cried and sobbed like a girl whose mom had just _died_. But there was this twinge in the back of my mind I couldn't really put my finger on. I smeared my tears all over my face trying to clear my fogged, grief stricken eyes.

Once I could take a ready glance, I saw the living room in shambles. Glasses and plates broken and strewed around the room. The coffee table in pieces. My paper machete heart I made mommy was cracked in two. But it was not those that caught my attention, but rather what was barely visible among them. A thin, rather ethereal looking hair. A _blonde _hair.

It was then, while tears were still streaming like a flood out of my eye sockets, that I realized what was truly crying about. Not like a girl whose mom had just _died_. Like a girl whose mom had just been _**murdered.**_ Even as a 4 year old I knew what one person killing another meant, and seeing it happen just heightened my sense of the word.

The blonde woman. "Beatrix", I remembered her say her name was. I had so many questions. Why did she come here? Why did she kill Mommy? Why didn't she kill me? My mama had it coming, she said. And I was going to find out why. And then, with more conviction and surety than anything that was ever uttered, I promised out loud, "I'm going to kill her."

I know I didn't understand much in the world then, and hell, I still don't now, but to this day, a full 13 years later, I don't remember ever saying anything else as resolute as I had then. And not once in my life after that had I deviated from my promise. In fact, it's what led me to this exact moment.

I mean, when you've reached the end of the path you've taken in your life, you think about when you started it. And its fitting, seeing as how I am about to be killed, as my mother, my sister, my mentor, and many others have before me, by none other than Beatrix Kiddo, the "Black Mamba".

_NEXT CHAPTER: _Nikki Bell/Sofie Fatale- Answers

Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic and hopefully the first of many. I'll take any reviews, just try not to get too cruel! D (Please Review)


	2. Nikki Bell Sofie Fatale: Answers

**Forgive and Forget…Or Not: **Part I- Nikki's Story

Chapter 2: Nikki Bell / Sofie Fatale- Answers

"_I want him to witness the extent of my __**mercy**__..., by witnessing your __**deformed**__ body. I want you to tell him, all the information you just told me. I want him to know what I know. I __**want**__ him to know I __**want**__ him to know. And I want them __**all**__ to know, they'll __**all**__ soon be as __**dead**__, as __**O**__-__**Ren**__."_

-Beatrix Kiddo (mere seconds after torturing Sofie Fatale)

A brief synopsis of what happened after my father got home and saw my mother lying dead on the floor:

He passed right by me and got on his knees and cried over mommy's body, getting himself covered in her blood. It took a moment for me to realize that he wasn't crying, but he was laughing. And he was muttering to himself, too. Some curse words, some words of mourning, and even words that now I don't even recognize, as if he was just speaking gibberish. As if he was in hysterics.

After a good half hour, he got up, with his brand new suit speckled with red spots. He didn't touch me, he just whispered in my ear in a way I've never heard him talk before.

"Take care of yourself." he said. Unbeknownst to me, that was the last time I would ever hear his voice.

There was nothing I could do then. I walked up the beautifully polished stairs to my voluptuous pink bed in my superbly kept pink room, turned off the lights and cried myself to sleep. Late that night, I awoke to the sound of sirens. This woman woke me up and told me to put on some clothes. She said everything was going to be okay.

I walked downstairs with her and saw over a dozen people in black jackets taking pictures in my daddy's room, where I could barely see him lying on his bed, perfectly still. As we reached the door, I looked in the kitchen and Mommy was gone. In the front yard there were 5 police cars and 2 ambulances, surrounding the entire lawn.

I was put in one of the police cars and driven away to the station, where I never answered one question and I stayed completely silent. They sent me to a counselor, and I was still silent. They sent me to an adoption agency, where I was still silent. For 4 long years I stayed solitary and silent.

You would think that folks would _want_ a child that didn't talk, but I guess it was just my luck. Almost every night I saw Daddy in my dreams, and I saw Mommy, and remembered what it was like to be a family. But every single night I dreamed of Beatrix. I dreamt of ending her life, just as she has ended mine. But in order to start my journey for the truth, and for vengeance, I had to be adopted. So I stopped being silent.

Every other week, all of us children were placed in a large room, where all the "prospects" would come and look at us or talk to us or mutter "poor thing", always feeling sorry for us. Every other week, nothing changed. A few kids left, a few kids came in, but the "prospects" were always the same, and none of them wanted me.

The week I started speaking at the adoption meet was the week of my birthday. I was basically going to whore my cuteness out to whoever wanted it, because I knew that wherever I went, I was going to run away, and I was going to find answers. Little did I know that running away wouldn't be necessary.

While I was walking around, I was finally feeling the golden emotion of being wanted, of being acknowledged and loved, for the first time in years. Stop, I thought. You're going to leave them. Remember the first person who gave you that feeling first. It is for her that you have to remain distant, and remember the plan.

I spied this couple eyeing the younger children, with a look of hopeful longing in their eyes. I swooped in for the kill, knowing that my cute, adorable face and voice would have them in my pocket. That is, until I was grabbed by the arm by some guy in what I know now was an extremely expensive Armani suit.

"Stop!" I squealed. His grip was intensely firm and not even my slim 8 year old arms could wriggle out. He led me out of the adoption meet door with both "prospects" and adoptees eyeing us on our way out. I continued to scream, that is, until I saw my counselor with her Barbie-esque features, smiling at me to death.

"Nikki! You can talk! Gosh, that's excellent news! In fact, I have some more excellent news for you, young lady! You're going to be adopted!"

"By him?!" I said, pointing a finger at the aggressor who was still on my arm.

"Err… would you please let her go sir?" my counselor said. He immediately loosened his grip and snapped his arm to his side. My arm felt like it was paralyzed.

"No, silly! You're being adopted by one of our biggest beneficiaries, Ms. Fatale! You are very lucky." She said.

"Where is she?"

This time the man in the Armani suit spoke, in what I learned is a French accent.

"I'm afraid she doesn't handle trips so well, so I am here to _escort_ you to her."

How odd, I thought.

"Fine, whatever, I'll go."

"Excellent! The paperwork is already done and you're belongings are all packed!" said my counselor.

"I'll start the car." said Mr. Armani.

As soon as he left, I was grabbed by the arm forcefully again, only this time it was by my counselor, and when she spoke, she had apparently abandoned her sweet, Barbie voice.

"Listen, if you screw up with her, and she stops sending her money, it's my ass on the line, you got it?!"

I nodded with disgust, and then wrenched my arm out of her thin hand. I walked through the door and outside towards the car, and heard my counselor say a jolly "Goodbye!" to me on my way out. Bitch.

I stepped into the incredibly luxurious back seat of the car, and Mr. Armani stepped on the gas.

Finally, I thought. I'm home free. Well, not yet. All I have to do is survive the first day and then make a getaway tonight. I had already gone through the options of how I would escape, whether it was from a high story room, an apartment, or a guarded house, when we had arrived.

It was…wow. That's all I know how to put it. Wow. It was a mansion. Victorian, with a beige brick façade, and pillars going up and down the entire estate. We drove around the immense fountain in the middle of the front yard, and parked the car right in front. Mr. Armani opened the car door for me and I stepped out looking at the house of my dreams.

We went up the front steps to this grand oak door. It automatically opened when we got to the top step, so we walked right in. The inside was even more impressive than the out, with beautiful art everywhere and marble floors, and it was just….wow.

Mr. Armani took me upstairs into this room that looked like a study. I then took a seat at the nearest chair to the desk, as to Mr. Armani's instruction. He then went through a door that I couldn't really tell was there at the other side of the desk. I then noticed that the other side of the desk had no chair. When he walked back in, I found out why. He was rolling a very beautiful woman in a wheelchair that was covered in a black shawl.

Her hair was deep ebony, and her eyes were sharper than a hawks'. Mr. Armani rolled her up to the other side of the desk. Then she spoke.

"Hello Nikki. You can call me Sofie. You're going to be living here now, and if you're thinking about running away, you will _most definitely _have a change of heart…"

Gulp.

"..because what I am about to show you will be…somewhat enlightening to your situation."

She opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a framed picture with a cloth covering it and handed it to me. This was one of the few glances under her shawl I would ever get. I leaned back in my chair and I lifted the cloth. My heart skipped two beats.

In the picture was seven people, all looking as if they were staring daggers at the one who was looking at the picture. There was an older man whose lips were extremely thin, right next to a younger man with a sly grin who looked very similar to him. There was an Oriental woman standing parallel to a woman with an eye patch and Ms. Fatale herself.

But they were not what caught my eye. In the middle of them all, stood side by side, Jeanie Bell and Beatrix. My Mommy and her killer. Was Mommy friends with her? Why were they in this picture together? There was a gold label on the frame that read 'The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad'.

Ms. Fatale was watching my reaction and gave a light chuckle.

"I knew you would find that interesting. Tell me Nikki, do you have questions about your mother?"

"Yes."

"And do you seek revenge on the woman who killed her?" She pointed to the picture.

"God, yes."

She grinned from ear to ear. "Then let's talk.

_NEXT CHAPTER: Nikki Bell / Sofie Fatale- Training_


End file.
